


By Hunter's Hand

by Artrix



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artrix/pseuds/Artrix
Summary: Things should have been peaceful after Dracula’s defeat, and generally, they were. Until Alucard appeared at Trevor’s house with an injury from another hunter, and a lot of repressed feelings.





	By Hunter's Hand

It had been four months since Dracula’s defeat, and already the world was a different place. Or, at least, it felt that way. Trevor could have sworn that a weight had lifted from the air, but maybe he’d just been too busy to focus on the stress of the world.

In the past four months, he’d been hailed back to his home, welcomed by the very same villagers who chased him out, and praised by the same _monsters_ who had burned his home to the ground. When he’d caught wind that they were looking for him, he had considered ignoring it.

But then, pride and homesickness had called him back, anyway. He went home partly to rub it in their faces that they were _wrong_ , but for all the cynicism in his heart, it felt good to be home.

He didn’t have the energy to _hate_ so much, and he thought perhaps he could blame Sypha and Alucard for that.

Sypha had softened his heart with her constant nagging about working towards the ‘good of all people’, and Alucard and his ability to forgive the humans who burned his mother at the stake…

They were good influences, though Trevor never would have admitted it. 

They were bad influences, too, but he remembered them only fondly.

Sypha had stopped by twice in the past few months; her first visit came a week after he arrived ‘back home’, to make sure she didn’t need to roast any villagers. The second, a month ago. She was traveling with the Speakers, but she liked to check in on him, to make sure he was doing well. He wondered if she did the same with Alucard, but then, Alucard had left them with a grim parting.

He had lamented over the death of his father, and the guilt weighed so heavily on him that he thought the only way he could recover was to seal himself away. Sure, he’d said something about thinking the world would be better off without him, but Trevor knew that Alucard could temper his vampiric nature. It was an excuse to grieve without blatantly saying it. And, while Trevor hated Dracula for all the trouble he’d put them through, he understood the loss of family.

No matter how terrible they could be.

Even now, Trevor was bound to his family. The town had been _gracious_ enough to restore the land to him, though Trevor had to wonder if they’d done so only because there was nothing _they_ could do with it.

The charred remains of his house were a monument not to be trifled with; cleaning it up to begin rebuilding had been a painful effort. The sprawling lands they’d once had to themselves were now overgrown with weeds and debris. Trevor had been spoiled and hadn’t done much of any sort of farm work, but they had fields fit to grow. Once.

Now, it was just a mess. But, it gave him something to do, now that monster hunting was a less viable career choice.

In the few weeks after Dracula’s demise, his skills were still useful, but as word spread, so too did the monsters. The Belmonts had selected this town due to the supernatural elements that seemed to cling to its borders, but when he returned home, the fog of darkness seemed to have lifted. Metaphorically; a perpetual layer of thick clouds laid _some_ shadow across the land.

Trevor had worked steadfastly; the debris of his family’s home was a project he’d only just started, but he cleared enough space of it that he could begin building. One room at a time. He didn’t think he could rely on the generosity of the townsfolk for long, so the sooner he had a roof over his head, the sooner he could relax.

Though the layout of the family home was still fresh in his mind, Trevor held no illusions that he could construct it again, in all of its grandeur. Even with the occasional townsperson dropping by to volunteer assistance for a few hours, he could only aspire to have a stable structure. But, even with one room at a time, he could keep building.

It was only one floor, for now, but one room became two, and then two three. The house had a total of five rooms so far, and a six was half built already. There wasn’t furniture enough in the house for anything to be properly designated, but Trevor didn’t need much to live. This was a project for his family, and he built out of tribute to them more than need for himself.

He had one bed, in a room he decided ought to be a bedroom (for now, at least). There was a table, a few chairs, some shelves.

The kitchen was all but empty; he’d been cooking his meals over a fire in the backyard. The décor was scant, limited to a few odd trinkets he’d picked from the ashes of his home, and a few pieces of memorabilia from his travels. Some villagers had donated what they chose to part with—a few books, some blankets, dishware.

Mostly things he didn’t need, but occasionally something useful.

Really, there wasn’t much that he wanted or needed, especially considering where he’d just come from. Which was good, given that he wasn’t the best at construction. But, the house hadn’t fallen in on him yet, and he was proud of it all the same. It was no ancestral home, but it would be, one day. For another Belmont, though.

All homes started somewhere, and his started here.

…If people would leave him alone for long enough to let him finish.

He’d been up since dawn, working steadfastly, and today he’d had no less than six villagers stop by. The sun was dipping low in the sky, but Trevor still had light to work with when he heard _another_ knock.

It wasn’t the generally timid or unstructured knock that he’d come to know from his unwelcome guests; this one was firm and deliberate. Three knocks, evenly spaced, and _confident_.

He was immediately suspicious. He quietly lowered the hammer he’d been working with and stood. He stalked through the house as quietly as he could manage. His whip, fairly useless in construction, had been discarded on a table. Distant, but always within his sight. His hand found it as he passed the table and he gripped the hilt firmly.

A rush of electricity flooded through him; it felt _right_ to wield it again. 

When Trevor stood before the door, he angled his body just slightly to conceal his weapon. He grasped the whip tightly in his hand, prepared for anything.

Or, almost anything.

He jerked the door open with more strength than he needed, and was almost immediately met with a face full of pale hair. 

Being a hunter meant you had to react to all situations quickly; he process this situation in a fraction of a second.

Pale hair, tall, heavy, falling against me. Armed? No. Smells like herbs, and dust, and blood. Cold.

_Alucard._

One arm wrapped instinctively around him to prevent him from falling, but _why_ the dhampir had arrived in such a state was as alarming as him actually showing up at all.

Alucard caught himself before he went down, but he had stumbled into Trevor all the same. His managed to take one step forward after he began to fall and tried to push himself upright with it, but Trevor could tell by the man’s trembling frame that he’d already spent his energy.

Rapidly, Trevor’s eyes scanned the horizon for any clue as to why Alucard might have arrived in this state—or, perhaps, just to make sure there were no spying eyes. He helped him into his house and closed the door firmly behind them before Alucard had formed words.

“I apologize,” the dhampir said finally, still slumping against Trevor. One hand clung to the front of the hunter’s chest and it seemed like he was still trying to right himself. It was alarming to see the man—normally so poised and composed—in such a state.

“What happened?” Trevor demanded, more gruff than he’d meant to be. He didn’t know where he was taking Alucard, but he guided him to a chair he’d shoved to one side of the room and forgotten about a week ago.

“I was attacked.”

Succinct, and nearly unhelpful. “Yeah,” Trevor said slowly. “Can see that. Anything else you’d like to add?”

“A hunter,” Alucard replied as he collapsed into the chair. He sat upright, but slumped backwards a bit as he utilized the back of the chair for support. Now, Trevor could see the actual impact. Dried blood stained the front of Alucard’s usually white shirt; it had seeped into the black of his jacket, and even the ends of his hair were brown with dried blood. 

“Shouldn’t this be healing?” Trevor asked, kneeling before Alucard. He was not delicate when he gripped the front of the man’s shirt and tore it away from him. The damage to the article was already so extensive that the threads ripped easily, leaving Alucard’s chest and stomach exposed. 

Alucard’s eyes narrowed at Trevor’s method of removal, but he did not voice any concern. It wasn’t like a good wash would have fixed the shirt, anyway. “It should be,” he replied weakly. He did his best to regain any semblance of composure, but the room was spinning around him. He felt faint and wispy and _cold_. 

“But it isn’t. Why?” Trevor moved Alucard’s hair out of the way with a more gentle hand, but even with that and the shirt gone there was still too much blood to clearly see the injury.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Trevor squinted at the injury but the crusted blood and—alarmingly—fresh red made it too difficult. He rose swiftly, without warning, and disappeared from the room. If Alucard was concerned, he didn’t show it; when Trevor returned a moment later with a bowl of water and a swatch of fabric, he simply closed his eyes.

With more tenderness than Trevor usually seemed capable, he dipped the fabric in the water and then brought it to Alucard’s chest to dab lightly. It took no small effort to clean the area without causing much discomfort, but Trevor gave it his all. Gradually, the injury revealed itself—a hideous thing that looked like it had hurt more going out than it had going in. The skin looked as if it had been peeled backwards, like he’d dealt with some hooked blade.

The smell was what got to Trevor, though; it smelled like rotting flesh. Alucard may have been spawned of an undead father, but there was nothing _dead_ about him. The skin around the injury looked like he had tried to clean it at some point but there was still visible decay. More than the stench of death and rot, there was something particularly woody and bitter about the injury.

Trevor didn’t need his family’s books to identify it.

“Someone must have really wanted you dead.”

Alucard grunted in acknowledgement but waited quietly for Trevor to clarify.

“It’s not cheap, this poison. The mushroom it needs only grows in a few locations I can think of. I’ve never used it myself. Hearsay is, it’s difficult to harvest without the toxins getting to you, though. The last time I got a good whiff, it knocked me out for a day. What were you doing that made someone come after you with something like this?”

“Sleeping,” Alucard muttered.

“Ah.” Trevor continued to quietly clean the area. “What did you say attacked you, again?”

Alucard was quiet for a moment. “A hunter, I suppose. He was human.”

“I don’t know if even a _good_ hunter could have tracked you down if you were trying to lay low. A sleeping vampire doesn’t exactly draw enough attention to warrant hunting him.”

“Not a vampire,” Alucard corrected. Exasperation clung to his words; this was not the first time he had made this notation.

Trevor continued as if he hadn’t heard, “Could have been someone soft on your father.”

“I suppose.”

Alucard cared less about the who, and more about the injury. “Can you fix it?”

Trevor was still examining, but his eyes drifted from the raw, torn skin to Alucard’s pale, tired face. “If you wanted a healer, why didn’t you go to Sypha?”

“She is wandering,” Alucard explained quietly. “I doubt I could locate her in this condition, if I tried. But this is a hunter’s wound. I could only think of you.”

Trevor snorted and moved his eyes, and hands, back to the injury. He carefully washed more of Alucard’s chest, searching for any hidden injury. “You just wanted my hands on you.”

He waited for some snarky response, for some growl or scoff, but Alucard gave him only silence. When it dragged on for a few seconds too many, he offered a cautious, “It was a joke.”

Alucard’s eyes were across the room; he wasn’t looking at Trevor. “You haven’t been drinking,” he announced, as if he hadn’t even been listening to the conversation. It was a habit Trevor had gotten used to when they were traveling—Alucard’s mind simply worked faster than his own, and sometimes it seemed like Alucard had finished one conversation and moved onto the next without actually saying anything.

Trevor had to remind himself that he wasn’t talking to just anyone; it was _Alucard_ in his living room. Or, for what passed as one, at least.

“No,” Trevor replied after a moment. He dipped the blood-soaked rag into the water and tried to ring it out. “Things have been far too busy for that.”

Silence hung in the air, but he felt Alucard’s eyes on him, silently imploring he continue. He obliged, but only after a lengthy sigh. “Villagers all seem to think we’re friends now. Like I forgot they _burned down my house_.”

And for taking his family from him, but that wasn’t a wound he was willing to vocalize. The hysteria of men had taken much from Trevor, but humanity was full of fools and he could only do so much. He didn’t have the patience for forgiveness like Alucard; he was here out of spite and duty.

These were his family’s lands; he couldn’t let anyone else lay claim. He would rebuild, and more than a house it would be a _fortress_. A monument to their legacy that he would never let die. 

“I’ve been humoring their visits. Rebuilding,” he gestured to the home around him. “Taming the land. Or, what of it I can manage. This domestic life is exhausting, but I’ve run out of monsters, it seems.”

Alucard nodded; his eyes had glossed over, and Trevor thought he saw his lips move, but no voice came out. Alucard was tired and weakened from the injury and the poisons coursing through his body. If he weren’t human, Trevor supposed he would have been dead. But Alucard was still the son of Dracula, and of more strength than human or vampire. The injury would take its toll on him, but Trevor already figured that any lesser man would have fallen to its effects already.

Silence fell between the two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sometimes Trevor would leave for a moment or so, only to return with some odd paste or mixture. Over the course of half an hour he made eight trips, and in his last he returned with a roll of bandages.

He didn’t ask for aid; he simply began to pull Alucard’s coat off of him while he remained sitting, statuesque. “Can’t believe you took a blow like that,” he noted; Alucard shifted positions just slightly to help him remove the coat. Trevor discarded it on the floor and began to tug the scraps of shirt off of Alucard. He continued, “Really, straight on the chest. He’d have had to be right in front of you. Who gets hit like that?”

Dryly, Alucard managed, “I was sleeping.”

“You’re always sleeping,” Trevor muttered; he was certain Alucard had fallen asleep twice while he was trying to mend him, and even now his eyes were dangerously near to closing.

Alucard huffed and Trevor thought he’d lost the man to unconsciousness only to be surprised when Alucard whispered quietly, “It’s better that way.”

He could hear the guilt, he could _feel_ it. The way it clung to the air almost felt tangible. 

Trevor hated it.

Alucard was a hero, whether he liked it or not. Trevor had taken his time to accept the welcoming the people of Wallachia gave to him after Dracula’s demise. It was not easy for Trevor to move past the fact that they had originally turned against him—against _all_ of them. He and Sypha and Alucard were all rejected by society, in different ways.

Trevor was a hunter, rejected and blamed for the appearance of monsters in the area. Sypha and the Speakers were accused of drawing demons to the area and plaguing the land like a curse. Alucard himself was born and bred by the worst of their kind.

And yet, Trevor and Sypha each were glad to at least to be spared the hassle of rejection from society. They didn’t need rewards and accolades, they just wanted to be able to continue what they did—which, at the end of the day—was simply helping the rest of humankind.

Alucard had only ever wanted the same, but he carried an undue burden. Conflicted, always, about the heroic deeds of saving the land and the guilt ridden conscience that came with slaughtering the only family you had left.

Trevor had unsuccessfully attempted to convince him to distinguish the father he knew while growing up and the monster that wore his flesh when his mother was taken from them, but Alucard would not be consoled.

Emotions were not a thing easily shared, so Trevor just shook his head gruffly. “Really isn’t. You’re just wasting away in that coffin. You might as well just be a corpse.”

“What do you propose I do, then.” Alucard’s words were flat; it didn’t quite feel like a question, but Trevor wasn’t deterred.

“Pull your hair back and hold your arms up, first of all.” Alucard complied and, paste and salves in place, Trevor was now satisfied that he’d done all that he could and began to wrap the bandages as best he could around Alucard’s exposed torso. When the job was halfway finished, he answered: “Stay with me. There’s plenty to do around here.”

Alucard snorted, an indignant sound coming from the most sophisticated person Trevor had ever known. “Are you lonely? Did you build a house with too many rooms?”

Trevor shrugged. “It’s still smaller than I remember. It is empty, though.”

For a moment, the two were quiet again. Trevor wondered if Alucard’s mind had wandered to the next conversation or if he had fallen asleep, so he simply continued to wrap in silence. Alucard startled him when he asked, “Why would you want me?”

There was a tenderness in his voice, a softness, that sometimes Trevor forgot existed. In some ways, Alucard seemed more fragile than Sypha—though he had to chastise himself for making such a comparison. She surely would have, if she’d known. But it wasn’t just that she was a woman; Trevor had seen how wise and capable she was in battle. He judged her for who she was more than what she was, and of their group he knew her to most to have moments of emotional weakness, when her sympathies clouded her judgment. 

No, perhaps it would have just been accurate to say that Trevor sometimes forgot Alucard was barely an adult. For all his apparent agelessness, he had barely entered manhood. They had never talked about what childhood the dhampir had, beyond a few fond memories of his mother, but Trevor suspected that he’d been forced to grow up too quickly. 

Alucard had nothing left of his family, his home. All that he loved had burned.

Trevor didn’t blame him for not knowing what to do with the pains of loss, but he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he’d just sent Alucard on his way. He’d made the mistake once before already and regretted it, but it wasn’t like Alucard had gone out of his way to leave an address.

But, Trevor was not a man of emotions, and he expressed only what he needed to. He didn’t dip into his emotional reserve for the answer. “There’s plenty to do. Keep you busy. You’d like it.”

Flatly, “Would I.”

Trevor shrugged and tied off the bandage. Despite the roughness of his hands, he managed to be careful. Alucard had not winced more than once during the entirety of Trevor’s time with him, and Trevor liked to think that he’d succeeded in making this as painless as possible. “It’s better than sleeping. There’s plenty more than that you could be doing to mend a guilty conscience.”

Silence from Alucard was not surprising, but Trevor could feel his piercing eyes on him. He didn’t look up and instead feigned fussing with the bandage for a moment longer than he needed to. He added, “You’re better off here.”

Silence, again, as if Alucard could tell that Trevor was holding back.

The hunter relented. Honesty made his voice sound so tired. Quietly, as if afraid someone else would hear, he admitted, “I was worried about you, anyway.”

Alucard’s eyes flashed and the scrutiny of his expression was replaced with a much more honest confusion. “Me? A monster?”

A monster. A title Trevor had bestowed upon him months ago, and one he wished he could undo. He snorted. “No monster grieves like you do. You’re as human as I am. And more of your mother than your father, don’t you think?”

Trevor leaned back, giving Alucard some freedom again. The pale man seemed relieved to be able to lower his arms again. “I suppose.”

It wasn’t spoken with much conviction, but Trevor could see the cogs turning in Alucard’s head. He needed them to move faster, so he added, “Then follow in her steps.”

He knew Alucard would have, if he could have, but the only thing holding him back was himself. Another shadow of guilt and—fear, was it?—crossed his face. Alucard took his time with his answer. “I don’t want to make a mistake, Belmont.” Very seriously, he mused, “I could hurt someone.”

Trevor made himself comfortable sitting on the floor before the chair, looking up at Alucard. He propped himself up with one hand while his other found the whip he’d instinctively fastened to his side after he’d gotten Alucard settled in his chair. “Yeah. And so could I. At least once a day I think about bashing in someone’s face.”

The shadow of a smile crossed Alucard’s face, and though it was fleeting, Trevor knew what he’d seen. Whatever amusement Alucard had imagined, genuine concern replaced it. “But there will be hunters,” he added, as if Trevor could have forgotten. 

“Yeah?” the brunette challenged. “And I’m the best. I’ll take care of you.”

He paused and reviewed his words, wondering if there was some insult to be perceived of them. “Not that you need it,” he added quickly, before Alucard could take it the wrong way. Only, Trevor wasn’t good at holding his tongue or being tactful, so he added right after, “Most of the time.”

Now, Alucard laughed. It was a tired, but wholesome, laugh that shook his whole body. “I’ll sleep on it.”

His own spirit rejuvenated by the laughter, Trevor cracked a grin of his own. “See? Sleeping again. But in this case, I’ll let it slide.”

He glanced around the room and, for the first time since he’d started rebuilding his home, he regretted that he didn’t have more furniture. He reached up to scratch at the whiskers on his chin. “You can use my bed.”

Alucard’s response was an impassive, “Mm,” but Trevor wasn’t going to give him a hard time. He was clearly spent, and Trevor was surprised that he hadn’t just passed out before now. 

There was no specific cure for the poison Alucard had been exposed to, but he had done all that he could to give him a fighting change. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Alucard would be fine, he just needed adequate rest. The salves would combat what toxins remained in him, but Trevor supposed that Alucard’s body would have naturally done it over time.

Alucard was no fool; perhaps he had been frantic and uncertain and thought it better to get a second opinion. Or, maybe Alucard had known that he’d be fine and was only using this as an excuse to seek Trevor out. 

Trevor didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to make assumptions. It wasn’t worth the disappointment if he was wrong. Either way, he was glad to have Alucard here—even if he did seem particularly pathetic. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Trevor moved to the side of the chair and carefully looped his arms around Alucard before he heaved him up. “Come on, work with me a bit,” he instructed, and Alucard begrudgingly began to walk where he was led. 

There was no part of Alucard that enjoyed needing assistance, but he was compliant and leaned heavily against Trevor as the hunter guided him to the furthest room in the house. It was mostly undecorated, but he recognized a few odd ornaments. A candleholder on the wall caught his eye and he paused.

“…Did you steal that from my father’s castle?”

Trevor stiffened, glanced at the unlit candles, and abruptly scoffed as he fumbled for words. “No,” he lied. “Look, you’re going to sleep, stop fussing over candleholders. Here’s the bed.”

They paused by the side of it and Trevor looked at his mostly clean bedding, and Alucard’s questionably bloodied pants.

“…You need to get out of those.”

Alucard’s eyes lowered and he observed his pants for a few seconds before he agreed. When he reached to unfasten the belts though, Trevor swatted his hands. “Just stand still.”

It took the hunter a moment longer than it should have to unbuckle Alucard’s belts, but in a matter of a moment he was tugging Alucard’s pants from him. It didn’t surprise him that there were no undergarments beneath the tight blank pants, but then, they didn’t really leave much to the imagination—if you looked closely enough.

Trevor had looked. For purely scientific reasons, of course.

Alucard placed one hand gently on Trevor’s shoulder to stabilize himself while the hunter undressed him. It was easier to pull off Alucard’s boots than it was to unfasten his pants, but the important thing was that his clothes wound up on the floor before he did. Everything was haphazardly discarded and Trevor rose, carefully guiding him into the bed. He peeled back the blankets as Alucard all but collapsed against the bedding and pillows. With a tenderness unbefitting of any hunter, Trevor drew the blankets up over Alucard. He didn’t know if there was some temperature a dhampir should aspire to keep, but he knew that Alucard was _cold_.

Alucard’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t yet asleep. Trevor had kept watch enough nights to know the difference in his breathing. Intent to make sure Alucard felt as safe as he could, he moved to the window. The sun was closer to setting, and the light was quickly slipping away. He could see shadows climbing from the forest, but a distant movement made his eyes narrow.

“Alucard,” he said slowly. “…The hunter who attacked you. Did you kill him?”

Trevor could hear Alucard inhale slowly. “…No.”

Figures. He gritted his teeth and nodded, gaze still outside. He reached up to tug the curtains and pulled them tightly, sealing out what light he could. “Mm. Then I’ll prepare for company.”

“I apologize,” Alucard murmured, with more sincerity than was deserved.

“No,” Trevor said firmly. His hand snaked to the whip looped around his belt and he ran his thumb along it fondly. “Maybe he’ll be worth fighting. No one else has been.”

“…I’m worried you’re enjoying this.”

Trevor smiled grimly. “I’d be more worried if I wasn’t.”

-

Alucard slept for four days straight. This didn’t surprise Trevor, but it was mildly inconveniencing when it was time for _him_ to sleep. He pulled a chair to the bedside, keen to stay close in case something went wrong. If he had an intruder, he didn’t want to leave Alucard vulnerable. Besides, there was something soothing about listening to someone else sleeping. Even if it meant that you wound up propped uncomfortably in a chair next to them.

Construction and housework was severely limited when Trevor considered what he could do that was _quiet_. Alucard’s condition meant he had to tiptoe around his house like _he_ was an intruder. Mostly, Trevor tried to give him space. Except, when he could tell Alucard was deep in sleep, he managed to clean him up a bit. It just wasn’t fitting to see his face or hair filthy. He deserved better than that.

But, restless, Trevor relished what time he could spend outside and the weather held up decently enough that he was able to clean up the land a bit while still staying close to the house. He didn’t risk traveling so far that he couldn’t still keep his eye on things.

Which was a good thing, because on the third day of Alucard’s sleep, the hunter showed up.

He was good enough to get Trevor’s blood going, but not good enough to make Trevor fear for his life; they fought, but the winner was determined in a matter of moments. The hunter remained nameless and unidentified; there was a language barrier between the two of them, and while Trevor was certain he was the recipient of several foul swears in the process, there was no denying that he was the clear winner. 

He was a master with his whip, and with one good twist and yank, the sound of bones crushing echoed like a cannon. He’d taken out the hunter’s dominant arm and stolen away his most effective weapon—a curved sword unlike any he’d seen before.

A lifetime of training amounted to nothing in that moment; Trevor had taken his licks. The hunter he faced was not without talent, and he understood that Trevor was letting him leave with his life.

If he survived the broken bone, perhaps he’d be smart enough not to come back.

Exhaustion claimed Trevor that night. He was in shape and not _entirely_ out of practice, but he’d been on the receiving end of one good slash and two heavy projectiles. More bruised than bloodied, he still presented his treasure—the strange sword—on a shelf in his room.

If there was poison on the blade, he made sure to make quick work of it; he cleaned the wound with the strongest alcohol he could find and slathered it in the same salve he had coated Alucard’s injury in. He slept well that night, despite being confined to the chair again.

When morning came, and the birds were singing praise for the rising sun, Alucard opened his eyes. For a short time, he stared at the ceiling above him, slowly processing his condition and reminding himself of how he came to be _here_. 

As the sunlight began to slide into the room, Alucard glanced at where Trevor sat next to him. Even if the room wasn’t slowly being illuminated, he would have known it was him by his breathing alone. Trevor’s form was visible, slumped over in the chair and legs propped up on the bedside. It was light enough that Alucard could make out for more than just a simple silhouette; he didn’t even have to rely on his superior vision to get a good look at the man.

His hair was disheveled, but Trevor’s usually was. He was in different clothes than when Alucard had first arrived, but he could still smell the faint aroma of blood—a knick on Trevor’s shoulder. His cheek was purpling—a bruise.

Even with the bath and fresh garb, Alucard could smell the hunter on him. His nose wrinkled distastefully. He sat up silently and let the blanket fall to his waist. 

The air was warmer than what he was used to, and without his shirt he still found that he was comfortable. Gingerly, he reached to brush his fingers across the injury. A few gentle prods indicated that things _had_ healed somewhat, though he didn’t know how long had passed since he first fell asleep in Trevor’s bed.

Trevor’s bed.

It was a small gesture that meant more to Alucard than he could understand. Trevor was used to sleeping on the ground or at an inn, but now he _had_ a bed of his own.

And he had given it to Alucard without concern for himself.

Alucard reached out. His hand hovered above Trevor’s hair for a moment before he slipped his long fingers into the tangled brown locks. At first, he only meant to comb his fingers lightly through them, but when Trevor didn’t seem to stir, he was compelled to lean in.

Trevor’s skin was warm and welcoming, but Alucard hesitated for a moment, only inches from his face. Trevor still did not stir, though Alucard paid it no mind. He crossed the distance between their lips. It was a chaste thing, a ghost of an unspoken passion. Alucard’s gesture was tender and unobtrusive, and when he parted, Trevor still had not moved.

Alucard watched him for a few seconds longer until he couldn’t take it anymore; he cleared his throat loudly. “I know you aren’t sleeping.”

Trevor huffed, but didn’t move from his position. “How long have you known?”

Alucard shrugged and plucked absentmindedly at the bandages wrapped around his chest. They had done their job, but now they were feeling a bit soiled and itchy. “Why didn’t you push me away?”

“I wanted to see how far you’d go.”

There was something playful in Trevor’s husky, sleep filled voice, and Alucard’s eyes snapped up. He didn’t know if this was a test, but he was certain he was prepared to fail. “…Do you want to see?”

Trevor opened his eyes and lifted his head. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes but already seemed more alert than Alucard had expected. The hunter’s bones cracked as he moved, and Alucard could only expect that he was sore after a night in that chair—and after whatever frivolities he’d shared with their unwanted guest. 

Trevor’s response sent a jolt of electricity through him: “Maybe.”

Alucard watched Trevor closely, still trying to figure out of this was a joke. “You’re teasing.”

“You’re the one who kissed me.”

Alucard squinted, but Trevor’s response had set something stirring within him. “I did,” he acknowledged, and for reasons he couldn’t comprehend he confessed, “I’ve wanted to for a while.”

Trevor was certain he had his answer, now. “You didn’t come here because you were poisoned.”

“I did,” Alucard countered. “But I suppose that wasn’t the only reason.”

Trevor nodded slowly, encouraging Alucard to go on.

Alucard seemed to yield no shame. He confessed, in all his pure, innocent honesty, “I regretted parting with you. And Sypha.”

“I said you could come with me,” Trevor reminded.

“I know. But I couldn’t then. The weight was too much.” His hand went to his chest and rested over the old scar his father had left. “But I find that our parting left me with a different weight.”

Trevor nodded. His eyes were calculating, almost predatory in their hunger. “I should have said I wanted you to come with me.”

Alucard shrugged. “Did you?”

“I wanted you for a long time, Alucard.”

The electricity surged again, only now it felt like fire in his veins and butterflies in his stomach. There was no denying the chemistry they’d felt while fighting side by side, but both had brushed it off in their own way. They were allies, brothers in arms. They had no time to think about petty things like desire and lust.

Except, now, alone in a house with only one bed. Alucard was already naked, and chair or otherwise, Trevor’s body reacted the way it did most mornings. When he stood to stretch, Alucard could see the obvious bulge in his pants.

Trevor’s muscles rippled visibly; he was as in shape as ever, and the thin fabric of his shirt reminded Alucard of what the hunter hid beneath it. The Belmont crest was plastered on this shirt, the same as the last, but Trevor wore it proudly.

As he should have.

Distracted by the sight, Alucard found that his mind wandered far enough that he didn’t register that Trevor had moved to the bed and was crawling on. The hunter sank down atop his lap and straddled him, but there was still a good few inches between their chests. Trevor wasn’t looking at Alucard’s face, but at the bandages. Nimbly, his fingers wove between the fabric and he began to loosen it.

It was difficult to focus on Trevor’s hands, though; whenever he leaned to unwrap the bandage from behind Alucard’s back, Alucard could feel _him_ pressed against him. Crotch to crotch, it took next to no time for Alucard to properly stir, himself.

If Trevor noticed, he said nothing, but it was only fitting that he would be as obnoxious about this as he was all things. Trevor kept a careful regiment, rocking back and forth slowly—deliberately—as he unwound the bandages.

The bloodstained fabric fell to the floor and Trevor eyed the exposed injury. The flesh was red and irritated, but already it seemed to have healed immensely. He reached out his hand as if he intended to stroke the injury but paused, just before he made contact. Instead, Trevor grunted and retracted his hand. “It looks like it’s healing.”

“It feels like it’s healing,” Alucard noted, straining to keep his breathing even. He could feel blood rushing through his body. He was too pale for his skin to hide the flushing that spread across his cheeks. 

Trevor warranted that wasn’t the only thing that was flushed right now.

“You know your body better than I do,” Trevor began slowly.

Alucard drew in a breath and then lifted his hips, pressing firmly against Trevor. “Do I?”

Trevor’s breath hitched and Alucard’s heart pounded loudly when he saw the hunter’s eyes flutter shut for just a moment. “I _thought_ ,” Trevor drawled, “We talked about this. Humans and vampires and all the problems that come between them.”

“I know what we said,” Alucard whispered. They’d been arguing about it like they were talking about other people, at the time. “You said it was too stupid.”

“You said it was too dangerous.”

Alucard licked his lips; in this position, with Trevor’s blood pumping as it was, it was hard not to focus on the thick vein in his neck. “Maybe we were both wrong.”

“Maybe we were both right.”

Alucard could think of a dozen things he’d rather be doing with his mouth than argue. He leaned forward, tentatively at first. His lips ghosted over Trevor’s neck and he waited for the hunter to push him away.

He didn’t.

“Is this a mistake?” Alucard whispered into his ear.

Trevor didn’t answer with words. He pushed Alucard roughly to the bed and pinned him by his shoulders. Despite the brutishness of it, Alucard noted that Trevor had caused him no harm. It didn’t surprise him that Trevor might have been a rough lover, given how he lived his life. He still saw him as a threat.

But. There was a tenderness in Trevor’s eyes when his hands slipped to Alucard’s waist. When his rough fingers brushed lightly over his hip, and down to the blanket he still wore around his waist. He brushed it aside, exposing Alucard’s straining erection. It stood as soon as it was freed, and while Alucard had appreciated the warmth of the room before, now it was only heightening the frustration of his building lust.

For a time, Alucard had wondered if there was anything between him and the hunter. He’d talked himself out of whatever he thought he was feeling; their quest had made them allies, but more than that there had been too many close calls for him not to feel _bonded_ to Trevor.

It was when he’d been injured during their ascent of the castle and Trevor let him feed from him that Alucard thought he might feel more for this man, raised to hunt and kill, who could sit so still, so trustingly, and let him _feed_.

He eyed the hunter’s neck; there was a faint mark, invisible to all eyes but those that knew where to look.

Trevor was too busy fumbling with his own belt to notice Alucard’s gaze. Alucard was not a complacent lover, and he was growing impatient; he reached up to grip the front of Trevor’s shirt and yanked him down to his level. His lips found Trevor’s neck and ghosted over them. He kissed and nipped, but he did not _bite_. Not until Trevor craned his neck to the side and offered himself.

Alucard couldn’t contain himself. Already wound up from the arousal, he had little restraint left. His fangs pierced Trevor’s tanned flesh and he relished the hiss of pleasure that passed from Trevor’s lips.

“I don’t have too much of that to give,” Trevor warned.

“More than last time,” Alucard mused, though his voice was muffled. He didn’t want to pry his teeth from Trevor’s neck.

“Last time, I didn’t need that extra blood.” Alucard still clutched the front of Trevor’s shirt and held him in place, but Trevor snaked his hand down to finish releasing his belt. His own erection freed, he pressed it against Alucard’s thigh, intentions clear.

There wasn’t much patience left between the two; while Alucard latched onto Trevor’s neck and drew a mouthful of blood, Trevor shoved the blankets aside and reached to stroke Alucard’s firm member. Moisture was already collecting around the tip; Alucard was eager and his body was responsive, but that wasn’t too surprising.

Alucard probably hadn’t had anyone’s hands on him in longer than Trevor had. For a moment, it was all they did. Alucard suckled Trevor’s neck and Trevor stroked Alucard’s erection as if he were trying to milk what liquids he could of it.

There was only so much Alucard’s body could give him, though, and when he released the pale member, his fingers glided to the dhampir’s exposed entrance. Tentatively, he pressed his index finger against it. Penetrating the tight ring of muscle was no easy task, but Trevor had either done this before or trusted Alucard’s body could handle it.

He was rough, but Alucard bore him no blame; Trevor couldn’t have been completely comfortable with _fangs_ in his neck.

Besides; it wasn’t like Alucard really minded the sensation.

He spread his legs for Trevor, releasing his grip on the man’s shirt so he could instead wrap his arm behind Trevor’s back. He laced his fingers in the hunter’s hair and kept him close. The sensation was so much more intimate than Alucard had ever experienced, and he could have sworn he felt his heartbeat pulsing in tandem with Trevor’s. Each man needed one hand to keep himself propped up, but their bodies twisted together in a way that was too comfortable to feel wrong.

Trevor didn’t resist; he let Alucard draw him close, he let him drain more blood, he let him play with his hair.

He moaned.

The noise was every bit as intoxicating to Alucard as Trevor’s ministrations between his legs. 

Alucard didn’t realize that there were two fingers in him until he felt Trevor scissoring them inside of him, twisting and stretching. If he’d been a human, more fragile, it might have been too much for him. 

But, he wasn’t. And he wanted this every bit as Trevor did.

Three fingers came and went but Trevor was losing coordination. Alucard kept his fangs in the man’s neck but he had slowed his intake of blood. He didn’t want Trevor to pass out on him. Not like that, at least. Not now, when his body was aching for him.

Trevor gave him no warning before entering him, and Alucard saw stars when the hunter pushed his full mass into him. It was one fluid action, whether Trevor meant it or not. Alucard wouldn’t admit it openly, but even though he figured he’d feel a bit of soreness tomorrow, he _wanted_ Trevor to want him that badly.

It meant that the chemistry they’d had wasn’t just in his head. This wasn’t one sided, not a one time thing.

He hoped.

Trevor began moving in slow, deliberate thrusts. Alucard had expected frantic, erratic movements, but the hunter was pacing himself. And he hadn’t forgotten about Alucard’s pleasure. With each thrust in, Trevor’s hand slid over Alucard’s erection. Everything was perfectly in sync, and Alucard added to it. Every other thrust, he’d flick his tongue over Trevor’s neck or suckle, or bite, just a _little_ harder.

Maybe it took seconds, or minutes, or _hours_ ; neither of them knew and neither of them cared. The sensations were so unlike what either were used to and they both _craved_ it—for far too long.

Being in such close quarters with anyone else usually meant you were about to get stabbed. This? This was euphoric. They moved against each other, less like two people and more like one. Their hearts beat together and—when the time came—white hot pleasure surged through each of them. Alucard’s muscles spasmed around Trevor’s erection only one thrust before Trevor released inside of him.

Each went rigid and froze against each other, as if they could prolong the pleasure if they didn’t move.

But it came and went, and the sound of the bed beating against the wall was replaced with only silence—and the sound of ragged breathing.

Alucard released his fangs in order to draw deeper breaths, and as soon as he was off of Trevor’s neck, the hunter’s head hung as he sucked in great gulps of air. 

The sensations had rocked Alucard so hard that his vision was swimming; he squeezed his eyes shut and flopped his head back against the sweat soaked pillow. Trevor didn’t move from atop of Alucard for a long moment, and it was with great reluctance that he pulled himself out of the dhampir at all.

Careful not to put any pressure on Alucard’s injury, Trevor rolled off of him and collapsed on his back next to the man.

Their shoulders were touching; Trevor’s skin was burning, but Alucard, despite the strain, still seemed cool to the touch.

There were no words of sentiment, no softness. Neither knew what to say when the moment they’d just shared said everything they couldn’t. They guarded their emotions in different ways, and even with their defenses down now they couldn’t say the words they felt. 

Not exactly, at least.

Trevor was light headed from the exertion and lack of blood; his muscles ached from keeping himself propped up for so long and he knew his neck was going to be sore from craning it for so long. He didn’t regret it.

It was him who broke the silence; he flopped his head to the side so he could see Alucard. Gruffly, he asked, “So you’re staying, right?”

Alucard’s chest heaved as he fought for breath; his vision was slowly returning to him, but he could still make out Trevor’s intent gaze. Alucard couldn’t stifle the faint smile that grew on his lips. “Is this going to make things awkward?”

Trevor scoffed. “This might make things more exciting. I could do without your appetite, but. I don’t know.” The hunter was quiet for a moment. Softer, and with more honesty, he insisted, “Just say you’ll stay.”

“…You want me here?” Alucard asked.

“I want you. In every way.”

Alucard’s pulse quickened once more and he turned to look at Trevor. “Then,” he said between breaths, “No matter what happens?”

“Look, I don’t care how many hunters you’ve pissed off. I don’t care how many of your father’s servants are after you. I don’t care about angry villagers. I don’t care about any of that. I want you here. I want you with me. Don’t make me fight you over it.”

“No,” Alucard said; his eyes fluttered shut. “We’ve had enough fighting. And, I think I liked this much more.”

Trevor laughed softly. Finally, he visibly relaxed. He shifted just slightly on the bed, moving his hand to grope blindly for Alucard’s. It took a few tries, but when he found his hand, his fingers curled around Alucard’s. The gesture was returned.

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry that this took! I wanted to post things more regularly but I have been busy with RL! I am still working on all of the requests I have, and I hope to be posting at least one thing a week! Thank you all so much for your patience!


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